


Dance with me?

by Aylaar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assumed Playboy Harry, Cafes, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Eventual Romance, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Investigations, Locked In, M/M, Mentioned Luna Lovegood - Freeform, Muggle Technology, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Sassy Draco Malfoy, Tea, Video & Computer Games, locked together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylaar/pseuds/Aylaar
Summary: Draco had given up on love, until one day sitting outside the usual gaudy cafe he frequented 'people watching' he spotted Harry Potter lurking.A suspicious Draco investigates and a series of events ensue.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 181
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	Dance with me?

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Depression, Language, Slightly Graphic Injuries, Mention of Claustrophobia
> 
> Thank you very much for the opportunity to contribute to this fest, as well as all of the mods and admins. I'm honoured to be a part of it.  
> Written for the song prompt "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta readers M & G, without you this wouldn't have been possible. Also for the motivation and unending support from the love of my life, J. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Thistle Do Nicely is a real cafe that I've been to, however it's not got a gaudy aesthetic, it's beautiful and their tea is DIVINE. But I adore the name and I'd love to go back someday.  
> Some use of lyrics at the end.

At twenty five years of age, you're not supposed to feel old. Nevertheless, Draco did. Unsure of what to do with his life these days, Draco had adopted the rather annoying hobby of 'people watching'. He watches as they animatedly talk to each other, the rapid waving of one's arms sets his teeth on edge, the bright faces of the bustling traffic coming through Diagon Alley in early August. With Hogwarts resuming, he knew there would be a lot more people here than there usually was, but he didn't expect the extent of the crowd.

Sat on a weathered bench table outside 'Thistle Do Nicely' a cafe painted in a rather obnoxious shade of pale green, Draco sighed. The cafe had become one of his regular 'people watching' areas; a lot of people passed it, though not a lot of people actually entered the premises. One day, an old lady had suggested to her husband they go inside, but her husband turned his nose in disgust, commenting on the many ugly hanging baskets round the front of the building which all seemed to have some sort of succulent or cactus in it. Every table in the cafe had a cactus in the middle of it, even the bench Draco was currently sat at. He'd noted when he first entered that the tables looked like they belonged to a muggle park, but never mind that.

"Do you think I could get a new broom?" a hopeful young blonde girl asked shyly up to her mother, who narrowed her gaze. Draco snorted, he remembered asking his own father for a new broom - he wasn't met with that much disdain, more of a 'If I buy you it, will you fuck off?' kind of look. "Maybe if you're good," came the reply; Draco rolled his eyes. He brought the cup up to his mouth and sipped lightly, his lip curling at the taste. Not only was their shop horrendous, the tea wasn't much better. This didn't put Draco off though.

"Mum!" another child screamed, bouncing up and down at a shop window. "Look, look!" The small boy looked no older than twelve, bright eyes and an expressive face. 'Wait til you get to my age,' Draco thought, a slight smirk gracing his lips. 'You'll have absolutely nothing to be excited about, you heathen.' "Oh that's lovely dear, do you want one?" The child, who now looked like he was fit to burst, nodded enthusiastically and ran through the doors of the shop. Draco raised an eyebrow. Nothing interesting.

Pulling out an iPod from his suit jacket, Draco pushed the headphones into the socket and placed them in each of his ears, scrolling through his extensive list of music - at one time people would have thought it strange, a Malfoy using muggle technology, but Draco didn't really care what people thought these days, he wasn't even sure he cared about what he thought himself really.

He decided on "When You Were Young" by the Killers. (when he'd told Pansy of his new iPod and music, she'd called him 'dreadfully edgy and not at all strange.' He turned the music up to full and closed his eyes, leaning his head back as though he intended to sleep. 

With his father in Azkaban, his mother moved to Paris to get away from the haunting darkness of the Manor. Draco felt unwavering loneliness, his friends had all moved on and found something worth living for, whereas he felt like he was stuck in an endless cycle of hating himself, hating life, no motivation and the lack of enthusiasm for breathing. He wasn't depressed, per se, he was just - tired. The motivation to find someone ‘special’ (as Hermione had put it) filled him with dread, especially considering the last relationship he’d tried.

Biting his lower lip, Draco opened his eyes and let out a sigh. He'd already been here for a couple of hours. Lifting himself off the seat, he slipped the iPod back into his jacket pocket, leaving the headphones in his ears. He was used to the strange looks, or the glares, but people were much easier to cope with when he couldn't hear what they were saying. He began to walk down the cobbled street taking note of the passersby, a tall bearded man wearing an expensive set of robes. He'd seen the man a few times this week and had noted the man always went into Gringotts around 11am. 

What he didn't expect to see though, was Harry Potter stalking around a street corner with quite a lot of concentration and intent etched onto his features. He'd bulked up a lot, his muscles now more noticeably defined through the tight black v-neck t-shirt. He was also wearing a pair of extremely tight black jeans and some beat up looking trainers. 'He'd look smart if it wasn't for those trainers,' Draco thought.

Curious, he followed him loosely behind, a frown beginning to form - what the hell was Potter up to? Harry, who seemed to have a piece of parchment in his hands, looked up and down, up and down again and began to move with ease, disappearing down a narrow alleyway, which Draco knew led to the back of Slug & Jiggers. 'Odd,' he thought. Knowing he couldn't follow him down that alleyway, Draco retreated back down the cobbled street.

Draco knew Potter didn't join the Aurors, actually he wasn't entirely sure what career choice he'd went with. He knew a few students had returned to Hogwarts to complete their exams, he knew that Hermione Granger had been one of them - he'd never returned himself - but he knew that neither Weasley nor Potter had joined her. Sighing, Draco rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure why he cared.

****

Three days later, Draco was following Potter down the streets of Diagon Alley once again. He'd seen him every single day since and he'd followed him every day since too. 'What was he up to?' Draco thought. He watched as Potter pulled out a black cloak and threw it over his shoulders, pulling the hood up. He took note of his surroundings and began to walk down that narrow alleyway once again, this time a lot slower than he'd previously done. Draco knew he couldn't follow Potter, he wasn't sure there would be a way he could hide without being noticed. Sighing, he retreated once again.

A week later, Draco was thoroughly sick of following Potter around Diagon Alley. The man seemed to always go down that damned alleyway. Draco had even staked out the alleyway beforehand, noting any person who went near it, he'd even bought himself a small notebook and scribbled names of people he recognised, or their brief traits. He wrote the dates, times and locations of where he first saw Potter and the time he entered the alleyway, which had always been around 2pm. The first time it had been 1:52, the second 1:55, then the third again 1:52. Today however, Harry had entered the alleyway at 2:01 which threw Draco off a little.

After a month of stalking Potter, Draco had decided to find out where he was before he came to Diagon Alley, so he started standing beside the Leaky Cauldron at around 1:30 to see if Potter left the premises. His calculations were right; at exactly 1:32 Harry Potter left the Leaky Cauldron, started down the road - looked around suspiciously and eventually at 1:50 he was near Thistle Do Nicely. He then entered the alleyway at 1:52 and never emerged, Draco even waited until 2:30. Sighing, Draco turned around, maybe Potter just really liked stalking alleyways creepily.

The next day, Draco decided to wait by the edge of the alleyway for Potter to turn up, checking his watch. 1:50, no Potter. 1:55, no Potter. "Hmm." he mumbled to himself. He checked his watch again at 1:56, where was Potter? 

"Waiting for me?" came a voice beside him, which startled Draco so much he'd dropped his notebook. "Fuck sake, Potter," Bending down, he retrieved the notebook and scowled at the man. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?"

"Oh yes of course, it's on my bucket list," Potter spat sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Well, are you waiting for me?" he asked again, leaning casually against the wall beside him. Draco narrowed his eyes, he could lie and say he just happened to be there, but what would that achieve? He did want to know what the hell Potter was doing down that alleyway.

"Perhaps," he drawled, slipping his notebook into his jacket pocket. "What are you doing down that alleyway?" he asked, shooting daggers at Potter, who looked thoroughly amused at this point. "For once, it's you following me." Potter smirked, shoving a hand into his jeans pocket. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed past him, causing Potter to chuckle.

"There's a guy that meets there every day at about 2, he's selling illegal potions and I thought I'd investigate." Harry put simply, his eyes fixed on Draco. Sniffing, Draco turned to Harry and laughed. "You're not an Auror Potter, why are you investigating illegal potion sales?" Harry shrugged in response. Pushing himself off the wall, he straightened up and bit down on his lower lip. "It's not as if I have anything else to do." he mumbled, narrowing his eyes.

Frowning, Draco ran a hand through his hair and opened his notebook, scanning through it, he ran his fingers along the lines and shook his head, turning to the next page. "What does this bloke look like?" He turned the page again, looking up to meet Harry's gaze. "Err - he's about six foot, black hair..." 

"I'm going to need a bit more than 'about six foot and black hair', Potter." Chewing on his lower lip, Draco turned a page again, his eyes resting on a particular description. "Actually, I have one here, six foot, black hair, slight hunch." Harry looked thoughtful for a second before nodding. "He does have a slight hunch." He moved over to Draco and peered down at his book. "What is this?" 

"Well, when you said you didn't have anything else to do, as it happens I don't really have anything to do either, so I sit in Diagon Alley and watch people," he made it sound utterly normal, which earned a chuckle from Harry. "What?" 

"Nothing, I just thought you'd be hosting society galas and drinking expensive wine of some sort." Draco rolled his eyes and snorted. "No, Potter. I'm not."

"Well, if you're not busy, maybe you want to help?" he offered hopefully, a small smile gracing his lips as he read Draco's extensive notes; they were very well detailed descriptions of random strangers he'd come across. "Can I read this?"

Draco, who was taken aback at the request for help from Potter of all people, handed his notebook over, a frown on his face. He'd read about him in the Prophet when someone had left their newspaper on his table, he knew that Harry hadn't done what was expected of him - he always thought he would be chasing after dark wizards forever, but no.

Harry began to read through the book, nodding his head at times, shaking his head at others. He especially liked Draco's margin notes 'This guy seems like a bit of a wanker' and 'Dropped his wallet, bent over and I could see the bloody moon.' He could tell Draco had spent a lot of time doing this considering the book seemed to be full of entries. He also noted Draco's handwriting hadn't changed since school, still beautifully written cursive.

"Hmm, this one." Harry mumbled, tapping his finger on the notebook. Draco looked down and briefly read the description. 'Sandy blonde hair, about five foot three, petite, wears ridiculously annoying high heels. Heard her talking to someone who addressed her as Mandy.'

"What about it?" Draco frowned, not sure he really got the connection. "She's his partner I think, she usually turns up about thirty minutes after he's left, then after about two minutes inside she comes outside and apparates away." 

"Alright, I'll help you Potter, but on one condition." Biting his lip, Harry looked up at Draco. "What's that?" A smirk appeared on Draco's face. "You have to drink tea with me at possibly the shittest Cafe in Diagon Alley every single day." Harry scowled, "That's it? I thought you were going to ask for ten thousand galleons or something equally ridiculous."

Rolling his eyes, Draco let out a small laugh. "I have enough galleons to sink the Titanic again, but you'll wish I asked for galleons when you try their tea." 

"You know what the Titanic is?" Harry asked out loud, not meaning to actually say it at all. "Yes, Potter. I do." Draco drawled.

****

The next day, Draco apparated to just outside the Leaky Cauldron and looked down at his watch. It was 1:30. Knowing Potter, he’d probably be late.

"Alright Malfoy?" Came a voice from beside him, Draco spun around and fixed Potter with a scowl. “What have I told you about heart attacks, Potter?” Draco spat, brushing down his suit jacket. He’d opted for a regular charcoal suit today; he’d given up on robes quite a while ago. Not for any other reason than societal norms making absolutely no impact on Draco these days.

“Sorry,” Potter said, ducking his head down. “So where’s this cafe then?” He turned around, facing down the road. Draco chewed his lower lip, maybe this had been a bad idea. Although Draco knew Potter hadn’t joined the Aurors, the articles he _had_ read in the Daily Prophet were all about Potter’s playboy ways. Always pictured with other witches and wizards, always a new scandal about their favourite boy hero. Draco kept a relatively low profile and definitely didn’t want to get into all _that_.

“Down the street, you won’t miss it - it’s ghastly.” Draco said, shaking his head at the thought. It seemed rather intimate really, considering the amount of time and galleons Draco had spent at that particular cafe, to take Potter of all people. A chuckle came from the dark haired wizard, Draco raised an eyebrow and simply shrugged.

Once they arrived outside ‘Thistle Do Nicely’, Potter’s eyebrows shot up, a disgusted look on his face. “You really weren’t kidding were you?” he said, shaking his head. It really was a sight to behold. “I haven’t seen this before, how long has it been here?” Potter squinted at the sign, his eyes wandering to the many different hanging baskets. There was something frighteningly unnerving about this array of succulents.

“I don’t know, a year maybe?” came Draco’s nonchalant reply. “I come here everyday, I haven’t a clue why,” he added, looking over to Potter, who was eyeing him with interest now. It was rather odd, he’d sit on the chair outside this ridiculously vile cafe staring at other people, but nobody ever really paid any attention to him. It was slightly unsettling having another person's eyes glued to him.

“Yes, well, anyway, let’s get tea before our beards grow in shall we?” Draco said, frowning at his own words. Beards? What the absolute buggering fuck? 

Potter let out a rather loud, enthusiastic laugh, his smile almost reaching his hairline. “I already have a beard Malfoy, you didn’t notice?” It was weird, Draco hadn’t really had a civil conversation with Potter, actually to tell the truth he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually had a _conversation_ with Potter, and he’d heard from other people the other man could be a bit of a sassy arsehole, but he’d never witnessed it himself.

“I did actually notice, Potter, thank you,” Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. Walking forwards, he didn’t bother to check whether Potter was actually following; he just wandered over to the counter to order two cups of the usual lacklustre, really quite dire tea. It reminded him a bit of Aunt Bella’s tea, except less poison and more sugar.

The lady that owned the Cafe looked as though she could be closely related to Ollivander, haggard looking and probably past her sell by date. When he’d first came to the Cafe, he’d winced upon seeing her, his mind flashing back to when Ollivander was indeed in the Manor's dungeon. Of course Draco had often taken a biscuit or two down to the prisoners, he remembered the beating of his life he’d received when Fenrir Greyback caught him trying to sneak down there for the fourth time in one day.

“Malfoy, what are you thinking about?” came the quiet voice of Potter, who was standing just a little too close for comfort. Draco’s eyes narrowed towards Potter, he mumbled under his breath “What do you mean?” which came out a little more scathing than he’d intended.

“Your face, it’s -” Harry trailed off when the witch behind the counter handed them two scalding cups of tea, Potter had specified he’d like quite a lot of milk, however she’d not listened clearly. Perhaps Draco had imagined Potter asking, he wasn’t quite sure where his brain had wandered off to.

“It’s what, Potter?” Draco sighed, picking up his cup and saucer, he made no effort to wait for Potter once again, before exiting the Cafe to sit at his usual spot outside for another daily dose of people watching. Potter quickly sat down beside him however, a deep frown marring his forehead.

“Potter, if you frown any more people will start thinking you have an actual brain, with actual thought processes.” Draco said, a light smirk on his lips. Potter scoffed, turning his head away from Draco. “Shut up Malfoy, we’re looking for this potions tosser remember?” Potter sounded a little affronted, which shouldn’t have bothered Draco, but somehow it did. “Err, right. So what time is it?” 

Draco looked down at his arm. He began to tap lightly on his wrist and nodded his head, as though a deeply intriguing thing had just happened. “It’s quarter-past the freckle.”  
Potter rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile at Draco’s ridiculous statement. “Alright, you got me, but really, what time is it?” Harry nudged him lightly with his elbow. Draco shrugged his shoulders and sighed, leaning back into absolutely nothing. “Fuck I keep forgetting this shite Cafe doesn’t have proper bloody chairs.” He slapped his hands down abruptly, causing Harry to jump in surprise.

“Didn’t you say you come here everyday?” Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief. Draco scowled in response. “The guy is right there, Potter,” he sighed, gesturing with his head towards the man who accurately resembled Harry’s original description. “Oh, cool,” replied Potter, who smiled. 

It was odd, although Draco didn’t actually have very many friends, he’d made rather an unexpected friend in Hermione Granger, completely by accident of course. By extension of that, he’d made friends with Weasley. Every Sunday, they’d arrange to meet in a random cafe and chat about nonsensical rubbish, but it gave Draco the little bit of human contact he actually needed. Or rather, he wished he didn’t need.

Sometimes Hermione would talk about Potter, mostly complaining to her husband about how Potter seemed to do absolutely _nothing_ with his life, which wasn’t completely unlike Draco, however when Weasley spoke of Potter, he brought up Potter’s conquests which he couldn’t help but turn up his nose at.

“So we’re going to follow him again, right?” Potter asked, he seemed to be studying Draco’s face rather intently, which made him feel a little uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, Draco simply shrugged. “If you want, though you don’t seem to have gotten anywhere by doing that have you?”

Harry let out a sigh and shook his head, tracing the rim of his cup with his fingertip. “No, but - well I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, scrunching his face up. “I didn’t join up with the Aurors, I haven’t a clue how to actually investigate.” 

“Right well, we could start by trying to find out his name - have you still got that invisibility cloak?” asked Draco, frowning. Draco thought back to the times where he’d caught Potter following him, and perhaps the amount of times he’d just let him. “Why didn’t you join up with the Aurors?” Draco asked abruptly, he wasn’t even sure why he asked, it was almost like word vomit. Draco had actively tried to avoid that topic, but it seemed his curiosity got the better of him.

Harry looked at him, his mouth shaped in a perfect ‘o’. “Uh, well, I spent my entire life fighting dark wizards, I thought maybe I could just be ah - well, Harry,” he said, scratching the side of his head. The other man looked awkward, Draco noted. “But yes, finding out his name seems like a good idea.” A small smile appeared on his lips, it was a little comfort to see, but didn’t cure the uneasy feeling settling in Draco’s stomach.  
“Tomorrow?” Draco asked, as during the time they’d spent talking the man had disappeared, presumably down the alleyway in question. “Tomorrow.” repeated Harry.

****

Draco and Harry had met up for a week straight, following the man in various different ways, first with the invisibility cloak, then with polyjuice potion. Draco had gotten bored one day and decided to just walk up to the man and ask what he was doing, although it hadn’t gone very well and resulted in a very sore black eye, which he was teased for relentlessly by Harry.

“We’re getting absolutely nowhere with this,” whined Harry. They were once again sat outside Thistle, drinking what Draco described as lacklustre tea - Harry on the other hand actually really liked the tea, and the gaudy aesthetic was growing on him. The witch that owned the Cafe seemed to take a lot of interest in Draco, which amused Harry to no end.

“I think we should give up and get trashed instead.” Harry concluded, nodding his head as though his mind was made up. Draco snorted, shaking his head. It worried him a little, he seemed to spend his life drifting from one moment to the next with little interest or motivation to find something better. The last week he’d spent with Harry actually felt _good_ in a weird way. Draco felt like his existence actually meant something, he had begun to worry what would happen after Harry got bored, or if they figured out what the man was up to.

In actual fact, Draco had found out the name of the man in question two days prior. Not only that but he’d found out what illegal potions the man had been supplying and what the woman, Mandy’s, role in the operation was. It wasn’t lying, he was merely.. omitting the truth.

“I don’t think that would do us any good,” Draco said quietly. This morning over his usual bowl of stale cornflakes, Draco had read the Daily Prophet. It was clearly a stupid idea, however, he was intrigued and he still had a subscription, but what he saw turned his stomach. Splashed across the front page: a picture of Harry with his arm around some wizard's shoulders and he appeared to be having the time of his life. Draco tried very hard not to be a jealous person, but it was an uphill struggle.

“I’m going home, we’ll try again tomorrow,” Draco said quietly, standing up from the table and nodding towards Potter, who sat frowning, and apparated away.

****

“You really should start dating again, Draco,” Hermione said, looking at him with a pained, sympathetic expression on her face. It wasn’t that Draco didn’t _like_ dating, it was more the fact every man he met was either only interested in sex, or money, or even worse, his ‘reputation’. His last boyfriend, Samuel, was a nice enough guy if you could get past the alcohol addiction, or that he’d cheat on you with seven different men.

“I’ll pass, thank you.” Draco replied, scowling at his friend. Hermione tutted, shaking her head. “Harry was asking about you today actually,” she said, narrowing her eyes. Draco knew exactly what she was up to; it would never happen. “Apparently the two of you have been conducting some sort of elaborate investigation?” The sparkle in her eyes left Draco feeling a little uneasy.

“You know he’s single, yes?” Hermione pushed, batting her eyelashes at Draco, who scowled in response. “Once again, I’ll pass, thank you.” Draco said, picking his cup of hot chocolate up. Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and leant back in her chair, staring at Draco thoughtfully.

Sipping at his drink lightly, he placed it back down on the wooden table and met Hermione’s eyes, almost a challenge. The door to Costa swung open and in walked the ginger head of Hermione’s husband, Ron.

“Hello darling,” she smiled, pulling the chair out from under the table for him to sit. Draco had gotten over his disdain for Weasley over the years,as he was actually quite a decent person to talk to, or well, he was decent in general. Draco received almost all of his Quidditch related information from Ron, who had a thick binder of stats on Quidditch players. Hermione often commented if Ron spentas much time on his homework at Hogwarts as he did his fantasy Quidditch, he’d have been an academic.

“Hiya, how’s it going?” Returning the smile, Ron leant down to kiss his wife on the forehead before plonking down on the seat next to her. Draco shrugged a shoulder casually, clearing his throat. “Your wife here is trying to get me to go on a date with Potter.” He said, glaring at Hermione who looked amused.

Ron raised an eyebrow, pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly. “Actually-” he started, but was cut off by Draco who let out an exasperated huff and held his hand up in protest. “No, not you as well, I won’t have it,” he demanded, shaking his head. “I’d rather not have another boyfriend that cheated on me with _seven_ men, thank you.” he added. Ron cringed and ducked his head down.

It worked like a charm, every time. Hermione coughed and narrowed her eyes. “Harry isn’t like that, is he Ron?” 

“Oh yes, because we don’t read articles about the tosser every bloody week, or his party antics?” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “I know how many blokes he shags, he’s probably got more crabs than Christmas Island.” Draco scrunched his face up. It wasn’t that he was a prude, Harry Potter was _incredibly_ fit, generally a nice person and, well, fifty times too out of his league.

“Oh Draco, you’re such an idiot,” Hermione scolded gently, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“Anyway, he was asking about you because he doesn’t know a lot about you - we all know from experience that Harry loves to find out about Draco Malfoy, in any way he possibly can.” The chuckle that escaped Hermione’s lips was very unlike her, and beside her a smirk settled on Ron’s face.

“Is this some sort of inside joke I don’t know about?” Draco asked, scowling at the two of them. “No mate, no joke.” Weasley said, but the smirk never faltered. 

“I want to find love, but - I don’t want another Samuel.” Draco finally admitted, letting out a deep sigh.

****

As Draco arrived outside Thistle Do Nicely, he frowned at the sullen look on Harry’s face. He sat down quietly beside the other man and chewed on his lower lip. “Are you alright?” he asked, immediately regretting the decision. Potter looked surprised Draco did indeed ask, but he studied Draco for a moment before shaking his head. “Not really,” mumbled Harry.

In front of him was the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, with yet another headline depicting the Saviour of the Wizarding World’s antics. “Every fucking day, all the bloody time - can’t they just leave me alone for five minutes?”

Draco snorted. “I very much doubt that, Potter, you’re the most famous wizard in England.” He shook his head. It was true, Draco was pretty sure Potter was more famous than bloody Merlin himself now, but he wouldn’t admit that to Potter.

Sighing dramatically, Harry nodded his head and folded his arms, putting them on the table in front of him and slumped his chin on top of them. “I know, but I wish I wasn’t," he mumbled. 

Draco took in a deep breath and nudged Potter, passing over his notebook with all of his careful descriptions of various different passersby and motioning towards the book with his head. “I figured out some information if you’d care to read.” 

Potter sat up quickly, grabbing a hold of Draco’s journal. “Nice, what did you find out?” he asked, flicking through the pages. Settling on the page regarding the man they’d been following, Draco watched as Harry’s eyes darted around the pages; they widened a little, with a slight nod of the head. 

“So?” asked Draco, who’d begun chewing his lip a little harder, though he stopped once he could taste the metallic flavour of blood, something that seemed to become more and more familiar with Draco. However, he wasn’t sure when he had developed this anxious tic.

“This is brilliant, Malfoy!” Potter praised, a smile appearing on his rosy lips. Draco couldn’t help but lick his own lips, soon realising what he was doing and quickly ducked his head down. “Oh, okay then,” Draco said quietly, he could feel the heat in his cheeks - he’d been thinking all night about his conversation with Hermione. Why was Potter asking about him? It was slowly driving him around the bend, he was sure.

“So, where’s this warehouse then?” Potter asked, he appeared to be oblivious to Draco’s discomfort, so he decided to put the thought out of his mind and focus on the task at hand, after all that was why they met up in the first place. They’d only been meeting up for a little over a week and Draco could already feel the obsession he’d buried deep inside him ready to burst to the surface.

“Knockturn,” Draco grimaced, the thought of going down that alleyway again filled him with dread, however, he quickly regained his composure and shrugged a shoulder. “They can’t be very good criminals if they operate in plain sight, Knockturn is mostly watched closely these days,” Draco said, thinking back to his own dealings with Knockturn, his father even. 

“Why do they always have to choose the creepiest places?” moaned Harry, running a hand through his wild hair. Draco raised an eyebrow. “Oh yes, Potter, they’re going to operate in the middle of a beautiful meadow filled with butterflies, rainbows and the occasional fluffy Crup,” Draco said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Harry let out a chuckle and smiled at Draco, shaking his head a little before standing up. “You’re a funny one, aren’t you Malfoy?”

****

Over the next few days, Harry and Draco got together to carefully plot out their plan to stake out the warehouse. They’d found it on the first day after following the man's colleague Mandy, she wasn’t exactly very covert, the sound of her high heels echoed throughout the entire alleyway. If they were _trying _to be sneaky, they failed quite spectacularly.__

__Draco was almost certain Harry was attempting to flirt with him however. They’d sat at the usual spot outside Thistle writing in Draco’s journal all of the information they’d found out, as Harry said it would be useful for when they take it to the Ministry, though Draco had argued quite heatedly that the Ministry was getting none of its filthy paws anywhere near his journal. They eventually agreed to rip a page out, even if the very thought made the hairs on the back of Draco’s arms stand on end._ _

__“Right, are you ready?” asked Harry, who was dressed in all black, donning quite an interesting black snood over his mouth. Draco wore his usual gray suit, which caused another heated debate upon his apparition. Eventually, they were ready twenty minutes later than originally intended as Harry had to transfigure his suit into something more ‘sneaky looking’, as he eloquently put it._ _

__“Yes, I suppose so,” Draco said, running a hand through his hair. Remembering the conditions of his probation, Draco wasn’t actually allowed to be found doing anything remotely criminal. He wondered what his punishment would’ve been had he been caught looking like _this_ down Knockturn Alley if Harry Potter hadn't been with him. Then again, they hadn’t exactly told anyone they were doing this except for Hermione and Ron, so if they got caught being, well let's face it, rather odd, he may be visiting his favourite cell in Azkaban sooner than he originally anticipated._ _

__“Though if we get murdered Potter, I’m going to haunt you.” Draco added, giving him a sidelong glance. Harry rolled his eyes and gestured forward. They began to walk down the alleyway, receiving no more than the usual peculiar look from the occupants of the alleyway._ _

__“You realise I could die too?” muttered Harry, just audible enough for Draco to hear him. Draco snorted, replicating the eye roll he received from Harry. “You do remember who you are, correct? Do you really think you’re going to die?” mumbled Draco in reply._ _

__“We’re here, keep your beak shut.” Harry said, his eyes began to dart around the many boarded up windows of the warehouse, before they settled on the slightly broken pane of glass to the right side of the brown and red building. “That’s the one we broke isn’t it?” Harry whispered, nudging Draco with his elbow. Draco nodded. They moved forwards to the window and crouched down below it._ _

__“Did you bring any sandwiches?” asked Harry, who looked up at Draco with hopeful eyes. Draco looked at him as though he had four heads, then frowned and shook his head. “No, Potter, you said you were going to bring lunch,” he whispered scathingly, as though the very thought of no dinner was the most heinous thing a person could do. “You idiot, did you bring nothing?!”_ _

__Harry gave him a sheepish smile, shrugging a shoulder. “Sorry, I mean, I can’t remember saying I would bring lunch but I have a shit memory.” Draco let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. “I am going to pretend that you have a bountiful lunch packed in that bag of yours, so that when I finally remember that you do in fact have absolutely _bugger_ all in that stupid satchel, I am going to smack you into next week!” his pitch increased somewhat, the immediate feeling of dread hitting him like a bludger to the face._ _

__“Was that the door?” he quickly whispered, however as he said it he noticed the look on Harry’s face. “Fuck.” he whispered, as he was hit with a stunning spell, the last thing Draco remembered was Harry screaming his name before he descended into unconsciousness._ _

____

****

When Draco came to, the first thing he noticed was the absolute stench he could smell. It smelt of sulfur, rotten eggs, perhaps a gas leak, something of that sort. Opening his eyes, he let out a groan - there was a dull ache in his head, as though he’d been hit over the head by a spade several hours prior. 

“Harry?” he called out, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness of the room. He couldn’t make out any defining features of the room, just that the ground he was sat on seemed to be broken shards of concrete, the floor powdering beneath his fingertips. “Yeah, I’m here,” came the distant reply of Harry. 

“Are you alright?” Potter asked. His voice sounded hoarse and Draco winced. “Yes, my head though, it - well it hurts.” he answered.

Harry began to explain to Draco how they’d both been hit by a stunning spell, however when Draco tumbled, the man had kicked him hard in the head, knocking Draco out. Harry then began to explain they were locked in some dingy supply cupboard, and that his hands were bound together. Draco frowned. He looked down at his own hands which were left free, but then noticed the shackles around his ankles and let out a groan.

“We’re going to die in here,” Draco sighed. It amused him a little when he thought about it; he’d survived his father, Bellatrix, he’d survived Voldemort and the War, he’d survived being a Death Eater, he’d survived the Room of Requirement and the burning fiendfyre - yet Draco Malfoy was destined to die in a supply cupboard in Knockturn Alley next to Harry fucking Potter of all people.

“Why does my life always have to be such complete and utter shite?” Draco moaned, running a hand through his slightly damp hair. Upon pulling his hand back, he rubbed his fingers together, noting that dried blood had transferred onto his fingers. 

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for years,” came Harry's reply.

They sat in silence for around thirty minutes before only the sound of their ragged breaths sent Harry into sort of a half panic; he felt unbelievably claustrophobic these days. “I hope someone comes to save us,” Harry said. He began rolling his shoulders to get the knots out of his back as his hands were bound behind his back, causing his shoulders to stiffen up.

“I told Ron that we were coming here today, I hope he notices I never came back.” He said, shaking his head in dismay. Draco let out a sigh. “I didn’t tell anyone, I don’t really talk to anyone except you.” 

Harry let out a quiet chuckle. “You talk to Hermione,” he pointed out, though Draco couldn’t help but detect Potter sounded pleased to be the only person Draco did in fact speak to.  
“We meet every Sunday for coffee, Potter,” Draco said, correctively. “It’s not the same as having an actual friend, you know, to actually talk to. I heard you and Luna are very good friends these days.”

Harry nodded, though Draco probably couldn’t see it. “Yeah, she’s really the only one that understands how absolutely fucked up I am but doesn’t push me to ‘do better’,” he said, the latter dripping with sarcasm. “Hermione constantly reminds me I should be doing better with my life, Ron tries to get me to join him in the shop, if I talk to Neville he suggests 'oh Harry, how about you come and be a teacher at Hogwarts!'” Draco could hear the slump of Harry’s head hitting the wall behind him. “It’s utter bullshit, I’ve never even had a proper relationship, I’ve gone on like three dates and somehow the entire Wizarding World assumes I’m some sort of Don Lothario, playboy fuckboy.” 

The scathing tone of Harry’s voice made Draco wince a little and he raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat. “What is a Don Lothario?” he asked. This wasn’t exactly the most important part of that outburst he wanted to know about, but he decided to ease his way into that particular conversation.

“Oh, er, well Luna plays this Sims game and he’s one of the characters - you know what, it doesn’t matter,” he let out a strained chuckle and closed his eyes.

Draco nodded his head, he’d heard Luna enjoyed playing Muggle video games, and obviously Draco had some limited knowledge of their existence, having bought himself an iPod. “What is it about?” he asked, though the burning question on his lips was, ‘You’re not a playboy?’

“Well you make a family and you move them into houses, then you control that Sim which is like a person and they do like, everyday stuff, you know? Like dishes and laundry, and you get them to marry and have kids and level up their careers and stuff,” Harry said, beginning to pick at the skin beside his thumbnail.

Draco raised an eyebrow and pondered the idea of the game for a few moments. “That sounds like fun actually,” he admitted, ducking his head down. He felt a little silly for having this conversation with Potter while they were trapped in this dank room, but nevertheless he continued. “Do you think you could show it to me someday?” Draco asked hopefully. There was nothing as depressing as his current life so the thought of controlling a fantasy life where Draco Malfoy could get married, he could have a thriving career and wear something other than a gray suit and mope outside a gaudy cafe sounded like heaven.

“Oh er, of course, sure,” Potter replied, sounding a little shocked. “It’s muggle though, so you know.” He added. Draco could hear the hesitancy in his voice, and he let out a chuckle. “I have an iPod, Potter, I think I can handle a game.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you like to listen to?” Potter asked curiously, as though the mere thought of Draco owning some muggle device was the most interesting thing in the world.

Over the next few hours they began talking about different music they liked, different genres - until they moved on to books they liked reading or places they enjoyed visiting. Draco was shocked to discover Potter had a great deal of travelling experience just after the War, when he’d taken some time for himself. It seemed reasonable, he wasn’t entirely sure why the Wizarding World expected Harry to just throw himself into Auror training without a second thought, but it wasn’t Draco’s business. Draco finally explained his previous relationship with Samuel, his voice shaking as he described the amount of distress he went through in that particular relationship. Harry’s sympathetic responses somehow calmed his nerves, rather than got on them as they usually did when he spoke of it.

Just as Draco was about to ask the burning question, a loud bang jolted him out of his musings and he heard distant shouting and the clanking of boxes outside the room. Draco held his breath and closed his eyes, hoping it was someone coming to rescue them rather than the grisly murder he anticipated.

“Harry?!” came the shout of a familiar voice, Draco’s eyes shooting open as he finally recognised the voice. “Ron?!” Harry shouted in reply. Relief flooded over Draco’s features, he slumped in his sitting position and let out a relieved sigh. “Thank Merlin, I thought we were done for,” he whispered to Harry, who nodded in agreement. As he was about to reply, the door to the supply room they were shut in flew open, Draco immediately closed his eyes, unable to take the blinding light shining through the doorway.

“There you are, I called the Aurors as soon as you didn’t come home; they let me come with since Hermione is with the -” He looked over to Draco and immediately shut his mouth.

“Thanks Ron,” Harry said, then he glanced over to Draco who looked a rumpled mess. He could see a line of blood which had dried onto Draco’s forehead, a purpling bruise forming at the top of his head. “Merlin, Malfoy you're bleeding,” he said. He stood up and allowed Ron to unbind his hands, immediately walking forwards towards the blonde.

Kneeling down, Harry winced and reached his hand up to Draco’s forehead. Their eyes met and Draco bit his lip hard, because if only for a moment, Draco felt as though perhaps Potter felt the same way too.

“Yes, I need to go to St. Mungo’s I think,” he whispered, still staring into those emerald pools. Draco was sure he could get lost in those eyes, all those years spent fantasising come to life before him. “Potter…” he started, however cut off by Aurors piling into the room.

****

The next few hours were a blur of questions; they’d been taken to the Ministry almost immediately and pushed into an interrogation room, asked endlessly what they were doing in that warehouse, what their connection to some crime group Draco didn’t quite catch the name of was, why he was bound together with Harry Potter - Draco answered to the best of his ability but in the end Harry was his saving grace, by answering that they were investigating people for fun. Eventually, Draco surrendered his book and they were allowed to leave pending more questions. Harry had taken Draco to St. Mungo’s a few minutes after they exited the Ministry and he was ushered straight into a room, probably because St. Mungo’s didn’t want to be seen treating ex-Death Eaters, Draco assumed.

“What do you think of Whitney Houston?” asked Harry, who sat rather lopsidedly in a chair next to his bed. He was flicking through a Witch Weekly magazine with disinterest, before throwing it down on the wooden table next to the bed, his eyes settling on Draco.

“She’s alright, I only like one song though,” he replied, studying Harry’s face. “I prefer Mariah Carey.” A slight blush tinged Draco’s cheeks as Harry let out a barking laugh. “Mariah Carey? Really?” Harry asked, almost disbelievingly.

“Yes, she's very good, she has a powerful voice, an attractive lady if you can get past the fact she has the wrong parts - she has…” Draco trailed off, trying to think of an adequate word to describe his favourite singer. “Finesse,” he settled on, nodding his head in agreement of his own words.

Potter couldn’t help but smile with that fantastic dazzling smile that he had, sending Draco’s mind into overdrive once again. “Finesse,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. Finally, shrugging his shoulders Harry nodded. “I suppose she does.” 

Once Draco had been patched up, he was immediately discharged. It amused him somewhat, he got better service when people hated him because they just wanted to get rid of him as fast as they could. “Well at least we figured out the riddle.” Harry said, nudging him gently. 

“Except we didn’t, we didn’t find out anything - we got trapped in a supply room and talked for the better part of five hours,” Draco pointed out, nudging Harry back in response. “Not only that, a visit to the Ministry and St. Mungo’s and they took my bloody book.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “At least it wasn’t me in St. Mungo’s this time, and you’ll get your book back you know.”

Draco snorted, giving him a pointed look. “If you believe that, you’ll believe anything, Potter.”

****

Over the next few months, Harry and Draco met up almost every day. They quickly became close friends, bonding over their mutual taste in music, books and travelling. The day Harry showed Draco the Sims was the day he realised he really shouldn’t have mentioned that game to Draco, ever.

Harry was absolutely certain the only reason Draco came round to his and Luna's flat was to borrow the computer and play the Sims whilst Luna was at work. Draco sat at the computer as he usually did and thought back to his conversations with Hermione. It had been a month of her telling him to give Harry a chance, but Draco had still yet to ask Harry about the whole ‘Playboy Don Lothario’ thing he’d mentioned when they were locked in together.

Draco’s head snapped towards Harry, who had put on Whitney Houston. A tsk escaped Draco’s lips before he could reign it in, causing Harry to chuckle lightly. “Come on, give her a chance Draco,” Harry said, shaking his head at the blonde.

“Much better than _Mariah Carey_ ” Harry winked.

_I wanna dance with somebody,_

“You going to dance with me, Draco?” Harry winked again. 

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody,_

“What did you mean when you said people think you’re some sort of Playboy Don Lothario?” Draco abruptly asked. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming in his chest, his palms sweaty against the computer mouse.

Harry stopped in his tracks and let out a laugh. “Well they publish articles every other day telling the world of how much of a ‘ _whore_ ’ I am, bloody slut shamers,” Harry started, shaking his head. “However, I’m a virgin.” he said quite proudly. Much prouder than Draco would’ve ever assumed anyone would be at that announcement.

“You’re…” Draco said, frowning up at the dark haired man, all those months of angsting, of not being able to ask that burning question and it all came down to Whitney bloody Houston.

_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody,_

“Yup, never defiled.” Harry said, sitting down on the arm of the sofa. Draco always enjoyed coming to Harry and Luna’s apartment, it was light and airy with potted plants everywhere, wild tie dye wall hangings and curtains that hung to the bottom of the floor length windows.

“Oh, that’s an eloquent way of putting it.” Draco frowned, shaking his head.

_With somebody who loves me…_

“Do you want to dance with me then?” asked Harry, the hopeful look on his face made Draco’s heart melt, he stood up from the computer chair, fake Sim Draco forgotten and took Harry’s outstretched hand.

“I suppose Whitney Houston is growing on me…” He said, as he leant in to kiss the dark haired wizard he’d been longing to kiss for so long.

Harry smiled against Draco’s lips. “Mm.” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around the blonde’s waist.

**Author's Note:**

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